


Funeral Hour

by decommissionedtechsupport



Series: Echos from Oblivion [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Do Not share to external sites, Do not repost, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, haha demon egg go brrrrrrr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29709918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decommissionedtechsupport/pseuds/decommissionedtechsupport
Summary: Sam was startled from his train of thought by a whisper, biting in the back of his mind, telling him ‘something is wrong’, a feeling of dread settling in his gut.  ‘I just patrolled, there was nothing, there's nothing to worry about’ was the argument his conscience decided to use as justification.No matter how many times he repeated it, the feeling remained deep into the late hours of the night.He didn’t sleep that night.
Series: Echos from Oblivion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183403
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Funeral Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not share or repost to other sites. Please keep it on this website, thank you for respecting my privacy.

As important as the tasks around Pandora’s Vault were, they were all surprisingly mundane. Well, mundane according to its one authoritative occupant, nobody else has the unfortunate, over-taxing job of maintaining the most inescapable prison ever constructed.

It used to be that Pillagers, with their surprisingly difficult to find mansions and undersupplied outposts, were credited with the best prisoner retention, their cold, dank cells being almost close to impenetrable.

Keyword there, almost.

As scary as they could be, those mansions and outposts have more than their fair share of security flaws (it was also laughably easy to break through the bars with even just an iron pickaxe), and the Pillagers that run them are reckless and stupid, with a lack of passion towards their reputation that had been painted with blood and fire.

Their reputation was challenged and overthrown rather suddenly too, when whispers of a new nation started to flit around the villages, tales told by wandering traders. Those tales were questionable, told far too many times, details being exaggerated or under-explained, nobody could differentiate the truth anymore. It became more of a child’s tale, one of heroism, sacrifice, betrayal, and fire.

Those tales became more frequent however, as the few years since its upbringing went by. Until one day, when news came, that shocked everyone that heard it. News of a stronghold, a vault, a tomb, that had seemingly arisen overnight. With its blackstone and obsidian walls, of its looming, massive exterior, its mysterious interior. Nobody knew what lurked on the other side of the gate, nobody dared question. It became a tale of a monster, people speculating if it was keeping something inside, or hiding something from the world. A name for the monstrosity eventually made its way around the land, everyone calling it ‘Pandora’s Vault’. Nobody dared speak the name, the subject quickly becoming taboo, for fear of saying the wrong thing, and facing the creatures wrath.

Those expectations would be quickly thrown away, if everyone could see its lone Warden now.

Sam cursed to himself under his breath as his hands began to cramp from the seemingly endless labor he had put himself through to prepare for the following day. Outside of the prison, the sun was high in the sky, baking the exterior of the prison he had resided in for the past few weeks. Despite its unforgiving heat, the interior of the Vault remained cold and stale. There was nowhere for moisture to reach the inside, and any rain that collected on the walls or roof quickly evaporated on its heated exterior.

A clear downside of the lava used throughout the prison.

Sam didn’t quite mind the heat as much. He grew up in the desert, and even to this day he believed nothing was quite as unforgiving as that biome, even the nether. With cloudless days and taxing heat, a natural lack of water and moisture, it took everything you had.

He learned that the hard way, from a very early age. It was not a lesson he planned on forgetting, even if he could forget it.

Sam sighed to himself as he attempted to derail his train of thought, this was a dangerous road to go down if he wanted to maintain the attitude he kept as acting warden of his creation. He swore an oath, and he planned to uphold it. Unlike a lot of people that stayed within the borders of the SMP, Sam was a man of his word. He’d be damned if he let his less than ideal path ruin that for him.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Sam set one of the many potatoes he had been cleaning (he wasn’t about to make his prisoner eat something covered in dirt, he wasn’t an animal), and walked to the nearby sink. The prison's kitchen wasn’t small by any means, but it also wasn’t over the top fancy. He just needed enough to take care of his prisoner, and someday potentially prisoners. He rinsed his dirt covered hands in warm water, letting the warm water run over the sore joints. He leaned onto the edge of the basin, position relaxed and deflating, allowing his head to hang and his hands to rest.

“You’re almost done, just get it over with. The sooner this is done the sooner you can go to bed” he told himself. He hadn’t liked the fact that he had begun talking to himself whilst working in the prison, but there was lots to do, and no time to slack, and he couldn't justify leaving the safety of the walls just yet, once he gets things settled and ensures the prison will be able to self sustain itself for a few days then he can head into L’manburg and just relax for a bit, maybe head home to check on Fran, hang out with Ponky.

He could trust his home to run itself, it was almost completely self sustainable. There was a feeding system for Fran plus various other systems to make sure she was entertained while he was gone, he had a dozen or so automated farms that would get him supplies such as food and other resources, the only thing he really had to do was a maintenance check every couple of weeks to ensure everything was running smoothly.

All he had to do, really, was find a way to duplicate those same systems to use in the prison, because despite his job as Warden, he couldn’t keep himself cooped up in here forever. He had other priorities, he was his own person, and if he stayed inside the prison for too long he would honestly go crazy. For multiple reasons.

Turning the tap off, he stretched his aching limbs. His arms and hands burned from constant use, and his legs and back were sore and stiff. His neck was also bothering him, he would have to ask Ponk of Puffy to maybe help him relax the muscles a bit. He yawned, cleaning up the mess he had made with the potatoes, and finishing the last few in the bag he had collected from the farm a few hours prior. With one of his many tasks completed, he could finally get ready for his daily patrol.

His mind didn’t wander as he mentally prepared himself for the hour or two he would spend ensuring the security of the behemoth of a property. Patrol was no simple task, it required his full attention for every detail, double and triple checking the security systems, and making sure no unwanted individuals were lurking on the outskirts of the walls.

It was all quite draining, and if Sam is being completely honest with himself, he isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to keep this routine up on his own. The biggest and most obvious issue however with trying to employ help is trust. If he has even the smallest reason to not trust someone to guard the prison, then he simply couldn’t employ them to guard the prison. There can be no question in his judgement and he cannot risk exploitation.

The realization of how paranoid he was acting made him dizzy to be honest. One of these days he was going to have to prioritize himself over this accursed place, as proud as he was of his creation, it scared him how easily it could bring the worst out in people, even if they weren’t even in the prison itself. It’s existence is just a looming shadow over the SMP, literally and figuratively.

Eventually making it through the extensive halls and security measures, Sam finally made it into the sparse and empty locker room, meant solely for the guards that would someday reside there. One of the armor stands rested his heavy duty, finely detailed armor. Even if blacksmithing wasn’t his forte, the set of Netherite armor, heavily adorned with gold and hints of crystalized redstone, was truly something to look at. The enchantments glowed green across the metal plating, giving it a look that was so distinctly Sam. He smiled at the memory of constructing those enchantments, Ponk had been very entertaining as he worked on it in his secret base, loud clanking resonating through the halls as he forged and shaped the armor.

The armor was very unique, he had forged a completely custom set of clawed gauntlets, gold brandishing the talons. The set also had a custom gas mask, adorned with gold spikes shaped to look like a golden crown. The mask also had a tube connecting to an oxygen tank that was attached to the back that would allow him to breathe clean air at all times. The boots had a similar style as the gauntlets, with smaller gold plates adorning the tops of the feet. The thigh guards remained relatively simple though, with some simple netherite plates.

The armor was definitely meant to be intimidating, especially considering the 7’4” individual who donned it, if anyone found themselves at the wrong end of his sword, which was similarly threatening, the hand guard was designed to resemble a sun, with crystalized redstone in the middle (not exactly practical, but it was good for showing purposes).

As good as the armor looked however, it was a pain to put on. Not exactly ideal, but he wore it for most of the day most days so he didn’t typically have to worry about rushing to equip it during an emergency.

Sam took a deep breath, he was eager to be done for the day. He started stretching his aching limbs before he set about equipping all the intricately made pieces to his puzzle. Even with all the experience he has with equipping the heavy duty set, it still took longer than he wanted it to. He briefly contemplated spending some time practicing just putting it on to get faster at it, speedrun equipping armor, maybe set a record for fastest equipping.

He made quick work of putting away all of his unessentials as soon as it was all on, and started heading back to the main entrance. He always started there, because if someone got in, obviously that's where they would start.

When doing his patrols, Sam forces himself into a very strict routine, he has a very detailed mental checklist he runs through whenever he ensures his creations stability. First, he checks for obvious damage; and cracks, dents, anywhere where he can feel airflow where there shouldn't be one. Then he’ll check for tampering. Any wires, trickers, or switches that might have moved or been damaged.

The process is fairly similar throughout the prison, as the systems (as diverse in purpose as they are) run relatively similarly. Sam grumbled to himself as he realized what that meant, an intruder only had to learn one system and then they knew all of them, the only thing that would slow them down is figuring out where everything is. Sam was the only being on the server that understood and knew where everything was. That, however, didn’t mean someone couldn’t learn it. Sam had patterns, he did most things the same because it was a habit. He liked having things orderly and he had a hard time adjusting to major changes most of the time.

“ _Some day, Sammy boy, you're gonna have to embrace change_ ” Ponk had told him one day. It was a joke at the time, but sometimes Sam still thought back to it, contemplated it.

‘ _I can change you_.’

Sam froze, shock and panic set in his bones before he could think. He stood up abruptly from where he was kneeling, inspecting some redstone wiring in one of the prisons many automatic mechanisms. Looking around, there was nothing, on a server like this though, it was hard to even trust his shadow at times.

Turning abruptly, he grabbed onto the hilt of his sword that rested on his back, and he ran. Up and down the hallways. He heard a voice, he knows it. Intruders can’t be tolerated, and if one person managed to figure out how to get in, than anyone could.

“Whos there!?” His cry echoed down the halls and across the many walls, but it fell on deaf ears. Straining his own, he tried to listen for any sign of life other than his own, or even the lone prisoner that resided there. The only thing that answered him was silence, and the distant echo of his words as they fell into emptiness.

Shaking his head, he rushed through the many layers of security that led to the main vault. None of the systems were open as he went through them one by one, but they could have easily been closed after the intruder made it through. If that was the case though, they would have been slowed down enough that Sam could have caught them, and even if they did manage to sneak past him he would have heard the mechanisms running as the security doors opened. They weren’t quiet by any means.

He eventually made it through to the final stage of security, just beyond the massive wall of lava was the prisoner. Or at least, Dream should be there. The lava takes a long time to stop filtering and then to start flowing again, there was absolutely no way someone made it through, unless they had fire resistance pots handy.

“You might just be acting paranoid, calm down there’s no way someone broke in.” He tilted his head back to stretch his neck, taking a moment to close his eyes and just breath for a moment. “Alright, just finish up patrol then we’re going straight to bed.”

‘ _Tick_.’

Sam's breath hitched, eyes going wide, pointed ears perking up, trying to locate the source of the voice.

‘ _Tock_.’

His hand immediately flew to his communicator, already pulling up Ponks contact on reflex, before he paused, rational kicking in before he could start typing, staring blankly at the screen.

‘ _Think this through. Compartmentalize, come on, you're smarter than this._ ’ Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he put the communicator back in its pound on his belt. “Lets just get through patrol. We haven’t slept in like two days, we’re just tired.”

He was really starting to question his sanity at this point.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please do not share or repost to other sites. Please keep it on this website, thank you for respecting my privacy.


End file.
